Monthly Archives: December 2014

Crawling out from his deep and dark hole,
He beckons to one he hopes to exist.
Hearing nothing, his is a lonely soul.
His single eye, longing to pierce the mist.
Once within, now without; shedding shadows.
Out his cavernous maw escapes a note.
More out of curiosity and how
He wanders than from his thin, lonely coat
Of solitude and silence. Quarantine
Does not become him he will realize.
There is a greater apex so pristine,
Its beauty will draw out tears from his eye.
He will open up his ears, he will hear,
Music so fair, no longer will he fear.

Special thanks to my brother Jesse for drawing this and allowing me to use it here. 🙂

I turn away and hold my breath
Yesterday is in its grave, turning.
Today remains silent before its death,
I wait for an hour to call my own.
I realize I own no minute I breathe,
Every heartbeat I’m given is merely a loan,
And at the blink of my eye, I might leave.
I know not the date of my end,
So I’ll make the most of my time here,
I will prepare my soul until then,
And there will be no end I fear.

Lovely Angela and her broken wing,
Once upon a time she did try to fly.
Though she was such a pretty little thing,
The only thing she can do now is cry.
Now what cruel thing could have taken her flight?
What malice stole her from her abandon?
Or was it malice grounding her that night?
Perhaps one took care to only sadden,
Knowing broken wings heal, and learn from pain.
“Why not just tell me?” She asks through her tears.
“Wisdom can’t be given, but alone gained.
You mustn’t run from, but embrace your fears.”
She then replies: “My broken wing will heal!
On this crippled wing again I will fly!”
Still she falls, but despair she doesn’t feel.
Now she stands to return to her own sky.
Her broken wing, her test, her pain, have passed.
Stronger she now rises, now made to last.

Oh the things we think we know,
When we are small and started to grow,
When we were better than what our parents showed.
Oh the things we think we know.
And when we’re out and on our own,
Far away from what we called home.
We feel something deep within our souls,
That was different from things we know.
Then we can sit back with these things,
And savor the wisdom that they bring.
When we realize, how our souls begin to sing,
This fact that we don’t know anything.
Then the shaping of our minds,
Becomes faster and wiser in time.
This teaches us to be kind.
And how to see the cloud for its silver line.
Oh the things we know we think,
When we are young. Before we sink.
Before we fall faster than a blink.
Oh the everything we know we think.

Out of the shattered monolith
The blood takes her
And when she feels so far away
It’s on the edge of a cliff
Surrounded by darkness.
Or is it that the light
She doesn’t care to see?
What circles above her
She wont find them gorgeous eagles
Waiting to taste her.
Vultures closing in
She should have stayed in the monolith.

There once was a soul,
Who shrunk back into his hole,
Like some reclusive mole
He was alone but not lonely
His home was the whole sea,
That is called night. He stayed there,
Never wanting to see daylight.
Or did he? He wouldn’t sleep through twilight.
Only a few saw what he was.
It was good, not bad.
It made him glad, not sad.
And though he wandered all his days,
He never wasted time on plays,
That dulled his senses.
That made him hop fences.

This one tells us of a solitary man living an uncompromising life, who has very few friends, but at least they are genuine.

When this mind remembers only,
Only then I’ll suddenly forget.
Nothing that my dreams have told me
Will prevent me from being beset,
By the enemies of my sanity:
The lonely, the missing, this mind.
It does wander ever through calamity
To find more of its own kind.
The sane to the mad. Opposites attract.
Patiently awaiting a new day.
Hoping, then, to find my mind intact.
These false hopes, at dawn will make me pay.
Here, in the new days light,
I won’t remember anything that
I’ve learned this previous night.
There upon my oblivion I sat-

I’d try to recall what I was saying to you,
But my wandering mind, most likely won’t speak true.

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About this site

ChainsawPenguin is a collection of some of my writings, mostly poems, that I've put together based on content. Please share any comments, criticism, or questions you may have as I would love to hear from you and I would be appreciative of the feedback.
I hope that you will enjoy reading my works as much as I have enjoyed writing them. Thanks for the visit!
-Lee